


Victim Two

by HardiganCaptain



Series: Donnelly makes his way through the Cape [2]
Category: Cape Wrath | Meadowlands
Genre: F/M, POV Second Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-23
Updated: 2013-04-23
Packaged: 2017-12-09 07:36:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/771681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HardiganCaptain/pseuds/HardiganCaptain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Another go with Jack</p>
            </blockquote>





	Victim Two

It’s not the heat, it’s the humidity, the heavy air that doesn’t move but instead smothers. Your fingers play with the business card you’ve been staring at since supper. There aren’t any business hours listed, and surely seven isn’t too late if you’re only setting up an appointment?

Dialing the number you try to forget the way his eyes had seemed to gleam from beneath the bill of his cap when you’d walked by him earlier that day. The too knowing smile when you’d made eye contact before quickly looking somewhere, anywhere, else as you’d picked up pace. The slow way he’d chewed on his gum while he watched you like he knew exactly how to make you scream, to leave your legs shaking, it’d been so unnerving.

“Hng?”

Your stomach clenches at the low sound, your imagination flitting about offering up lewd scenarios, the phantom scrape of his lips passing over your jaw while that noise is- Your throat goes dry as you try to force the imagery from your head.

“Hullo?” the lazy drawl, low and husky, makes you shiver.

“Sorry, I got distracted for a moment there.”

”Ah…” a quick sniff, the soft rustle of fabric as you feel a twinge of guilt. Did you wake him up? It’s a bit early but it would explain the slow measured breaths coming from his end.

“Did I- I mean, is this a bad time?” you’re close to ending the call when a soft groan caresses your ear.

“No, no, no, wasn’t sleepin’.” the harsh rasp that curls around his mellow voice is giving you more problems than you’d like to admit. “No… not sleepin’.”

A quiet grunt as he shifts, that hushed sound of fabric coming over the line. If he hadn’t been sleeping he’d probably been trying to relax after a long day. You’d seen him all over the neighborhood, working, maybe seven o’clock was a bit too late to call…

“It’s late, I could call tomorrow, Mr. Donnelly. I’m sure I can survive until then. It’s not like I-“

“Jack.”

“What’s that?” you blink slowly, your train of thought derailed.

“Jack, not Mr. Donnelly. Don’t like that…”

“Sorry, Jack, well I-” you pause at the low groan that rumbles through your phone. “I was hoping you’d be able to come round and-“

A low sound grates out of his throat and you start to wonder if he’s one of those savant type people. The kind that weren’t all there but could do a certain thing amazing well. His sentences were always so choppy, interrupted through out by soft sounds that really had no right to be in any civil conversation…

“Now? You want me there now?” there’s a hitch to his breathing, the low gravelly purr echoing in your ear as you fight the urge to squirm. There’s a low moan that’s almost a growl, short but there all the same.

“Jack? Are you alright?”

“Fine, fine, just fine.” there’s a hint of a whine in his voice before he clears his throat. “What you need fixin’?”

You’re starting to feel ridiculous, shifting on your bed, looking up at the still blades of your fan. It could have waited until morning, what was one more night of misery, anyways? It would have been better than trying to keep your train of thought while he makes the most obscene noises in your-

“Mr. Donnelly, are you- Oh my God, are you masturbating?!”

“You’ve got a lovely voice, baby, so I thought why not?” the nonchalant way he says it has your jaw dropping, missing half of what else he says as you try to chase away the images that are suddenly filling your mind. “-and those tight jeans you was wearin’ this afternoon. Had me half hard…”

“Excuse you!” your cheeks flush as he lets out a husky chuckle.

“What you need fixin’?”

“Never mind, I’ll- I don’t know, I’ll call someone else, Mr. Donnelly.” you’re struggling to maintain your composure, telling yourself to hang up even as a guttural snarl pierces your ear.

“I told you my name is Jack.” his voice is rough with anger, “None of that Mr. shit, just Jack!”

“I’ll fix my own ceiling fan Jack,” his name drips venemously off your tongue, “Forget I called.”

Hanging up you toss your phone onto your bed, eyeing it with a mixture of distaste and shame for not being able to hang up sooner. Your skin is crawling and you wipe your hands on the bed spread trying to get rid of the clammy feeling on your palms. Shoving off your bed you yank the thin curtains open, lifting the window open as far it will go. It’s not enough, what little breeze there is reaches your window refuses to enter.

You can hear the soft groans and grunts in your ear as you walk towards your bathroom. A cold shower to chase the sweat from your skin, the flushed, tight feeling from your body, and then bed. Maybe the hardware store has a manual that you can buy to figure out the problem on your own.

Despite your intentions the water is quickly heated after yanking your hand out of the icy spray. Shivering you flick on the radio, humming along as you tug your shirt over your head and into the pile near the door. The first contact the hot water has with your skin leaves you hissing lightly between clenched teeth before your body adjusts. Grabbing your body wash you slowly start lathering up your arms and hands, you’re a bit more than half tempted to deal with the throbbing between your legs but you stop yourself. That was not something you could just, that whole phone call had been just, fuck…

It takes you a moment to realize that the music you’d been singing along to is quieter, you can barely hear it over the rushing water. Cursing you rinse, pulling back the shower curtain to adjust the station only to find Jack leaning against your sink. His palm is slowly grinding between his legs, jaw moving smoothly as he chews on his gum, his lips curling into a broad smile.

“Hey, baby.”

“What are you- You can’t just- Get out!” grabbing the shower curtain you pull it around your waist, the plastic sticking to your skin.

“Oof, well that makes a very pretty picture.” a low sound squeezes its way out of his throat, his fingers curling as he grabs the erection in his jeans and squeezes it tightly. “You gonna scream? I’d like that…”

“Get. Out!”

You don’t see him move, his hand yanking the shower curtain from your grasp, the other sliding to your throat as he steps into the shower with you to slam you against the wall. His cheek brushes yours as he buries his nose in your air, a soft sigh escaping him as he grabs your hand and presses it against his cock which twitches on contact.

“Mmf, give it a squeeze, go on.”

“Please…” your body shakes, the word a soft whimper as you try to squirm out of his grip.

“None of that, just give it a squeeze.” his fingers are brutal on your wrist, grinding the bones together as he presses your hand more firmly against him.

Tentatively your hand squeezes before going slack under the pressure of his grip, your eyes wide as he pulls back with a grin. His hips thrust, his cock grinding against your palm as his eyes go half lidded with a low scratchy moan.

“Look at you, God, just look at you…” the words are whispered, his breath breezing over your face he smacks his gum slowly. “Unzip me.”

“No!” yanking, you pull your hand free, the other slamming open palmed against his cheek.

“Shouldn’t have done that, no, no you shouldn’t have…” his voice is a low growl, lips curling back from his lips in an unpleasant sneer.

Your head aches, cheek slamming against the wall as he spins you, a broad hand between your shoulder blades. His hips grind into you, the denim scraping as he trails his fingers down your spine. A long dragged out soft moan fills your ears, his hand trying to undo his pants even as his hips continue to rut against you.

“Just a minute, give me a minute.” he grunts , yanking at the waistband of his jeans, a soft sigh as you hear the sound of his zipper gliding down.

His hand slides up your back, fingers tangling in your hair as he lines himself up, thrusting in with a deep sound of appreciation rumbling in his chest. Slamming your hands against the wall, you arch your back trying to throw him off as he slowly curls his body along yours, his lips caressing your shoulder. He uses the grip in your hair to pull you back only to slam your face into the shower wall again drawing a broken sob from your lips.

“Hnng, do that again.” His teeth scrape along the back of your neck, sinking in drawing a whimper from you as you try to get your vision to stop going grey around the edges. “Close enough, oh God that’s good.”

Fingers digging into your hip, his hand twisting in your hair, he pistons in and out of you leaving your legs weak. Falling to the shower floor when he releases you suddenly, using the fistful of hair to make you turn to face him as spills over your face, a spurt going up your nose and burning like fire.

“Should have turned the shower off first,” he pants, his tongue tracing the corner of his mouth. “It’s just washing away now, I wanted to enjoy it…”

You flinch when his fingers smear through the semen and water on your face, tweaking your nose with a grin growing, jaw working as he chews the gum.

“I’ll get that fan fixed for you in the afternoon.”


End file.
